Chapter Two
"Okay, so this is it. Bathroom is down the hall….."
"Marissa," Ryan attempted to interrupt her. After the rescue workers had checked them out on the way in from the meadow outside of Seattle where the plane had made its emergency landing, declaring they were both physically sound, just minor bumps and bruises from being jostled by the rough landing, they had briefly talked, the conversation awkward and disjointed, agreeing to take a cab together to her apartment. She didn't want to be alone; he didn't feel like staying at an impersonal, cold hotel, so she had invited him to stay the day with her. A quick yes from Ryan had led them here, to Marissa's rambling while he determined to actually talk about what happened between them. It was proving rather difficult though.
"And I have both, a shower and a tub, so you can pick whichever you prefer….though guys tend to shower more than they take baths, but I wouldn't judge you if you liked baths. I think it's perfectly fine for a man to take a bath. It shows that he's comfortable with his masculinity and is not intimidated by stereotypes or clichés."
Trying again, Ryan interrupted her. "Marissa."
"Oh, and if you need a toothbrush, there's an extra one in the second drawer on the right side of the vanity. Everything else you should need, toothpaste, towels, shampoo, soap, it should all be sitting out." Walking away, she started to move towards the living area of the small, comfortable, homey apartment, fussing with pillows and blankets by the couch the entire time until finally he got her attention.
"Marissa!" Turning her head, she looked up at him, bewildered as to why he had raised his voice and why he hadn't moved to go to the bathroom yet. "It's okay," he continued, explaining himself. "Just calm down….please."
Closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she attempted to do what he said. "I'll try….it's just…..I've never been in a situation like this before."
"If it makes you feel any better, neither have I," Ryan offered, smiling kindly. "Listen, I have an idea. You seem tense. Go, take a shower….or bath," he teased, smirking at her and making her blush at the memory of her ramble, "and I'll cook us some breakfast."
"You don't mind? I mean, you're the guest; you should shower first," Marissa offered, trying to be the polite hostess. Suddenly, as if the last part of his statement had finally registered in her mind, she realized out loud, "wait, did you just say you can cook?"
"A little," he responded modestly. "Have any requests?"
"About the only thing you'll be able to make in my kitchen is coffee. I don't exactly keep it well stocked."
"Well, I saw a store down the street," Ryan offered. "I'll just run down there while you're showering and pick up a few things. When I get back, we can talk while I cook. What do you say?"
Shyly, with a small grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, Marissa asked, "could you maybe pick up orange juice, pulp free….if it's not too much of a hassle?"
"Isn't orange juice a breakfast necessity," Ryan mocked her, making the smile that was forming on her face grow wider. Seeing her nod her head in agreement, he turned to walk out of the apartment, dropping the bags he was still carrying by the front door as Marissa turned to walk down the hallway which led to her bathroom.
"Wait," she shouted, running back out to him, startling Ryan. "Oh, and could you possibly buy a pack of those Pillsbury cinnamon rolls, too." Blushing, she confessed. "They're like the only thing I can make that's semi-appetizing for breakfast, and I want to be able to contribute something to this meal."
Laughing, Ryan walked out of the room, tossing his response back over his shoulder. "I think I could handle that." And with one last shared smirk, he left her alone, hoping she would listen to him and relax.
Ryan had breakfast well underway when Marissa emerged from a puff of steam out of the bathroom door, her hair thrown up in a light pink, soft towel and dressed in a pair of Ohio State sweatpants and matching sweatshirt.
"We really need to discuss your college sports team loyalties," Ryan teased her, handing her the roll of cinnamon rolls to start preparing.
"Sorry, but I really don't watch sports." When he looked at her confused because of her outfit, she explained. "My sister goes there, so they were gifts from her. They were free and they're warm, so they work for me."
"Your sister, I take it she's the other woman in all the pictures around here with you," Ryan asked curious. "What's she studying?"
"Yes, she's the other woman, and she's going to be a vet," Marissa replied, taking a large gulp out of the glass of orange juice Ryan had placed in front of her. "What were you doing when I was taking a shower, snooping around my apartment?"
"No, I wasn't, but that's not a bad idea," he joked with her, elbowing her softly in the side. "Why don't you go back and take another one, while I sneak around and look for all your secrets."
"I do believe we covered those on the plane." Putting the tray of frozen cinnamon rolls in the oven Ryan had preheated for her, Marissa, feeling awkward once again, moved away from the kitchen and into the living area it overlooked.
Taking the pan of scrambled eggs off of burner and turning the sausage to low, he followed her. Moving to stand in front of the small fireplace, he picked up one of the pictures, an older one of Marissa and her sister, perhaps when they were both still teenagers, and peered into it, silently, for a moment. "I don't think you can ever know every secret about a person," he finally responded softly, looking up to meet her nervous eyes. "For instance, would you tell me why it appears as if you don't have any parents? I know science and medicine are advancing to unbelievable regions, but I don't think it's possible to hatch a human yet."
"I have parents….all people do," Marissa conceded, her voice barely above a whisper. Moving towards him, she stood by his side, picking up the picture that had been right beside the one Ryan was still holding. "I was sixteen in this picture," she told him, holding it up so they could both see it, "and Caitlyn, that's my sister, she was only twelve. We had just located here to Seattle from Newport Beach."
"Southern California," Ryan interrupted, surprised. "I'm from Chino."
Giving him a genuine smile, she laughed. "It's quite the small world, isn't it," but continued without waiting for a response from him. "Two months before this was taken, on the night of my debutant ball, my Dad had been arrested for embezzlement. My Mom bailed him out with the little money they had in their savings since he had practically drained that account, too, and a week later, she found him hanging from a tree in our backyard. In his note he said he couldn't take hurting us anymore."
Snorting in indignation, Ryan couldn't help but exclaim softly under his breath, "yeah, because I'm sure leaving you, your sister, and your Mom, all innocent in the situation he created, to clean up after his mess didn't hurt you at all," but she heard him anyway.
"You're right," she answered him, sniffling to hold back the tears. When he noticed that she was becoming upset, he motioned for them to sit down on the couch. Putting the picture back that he was holding, he led her to sit down beside him, gingerly putting his left arm around her delicate shoulders and holding her in comfort while she continued to talk, staring down at the picture still in her hands the whole time. "My Mom had to sell everything, the house, the cars, even her personal jewelry in order to make back what he had stolen from his clients, and by the time she had made full restitution, there was nothing left. Eventually, she left, too." Knowing that Ryan would need more information to understand what had happened, she took a deep breath and plunged right back into her story. "I'm not even sure why. Some people said she had met someone who had promised to take care of her if she left us behind, but I think it was just the fact that she couldn't stand to be poor again. She had gotten out of Riverside when she was eighteen, and she always swore she'd never go back. So, she packed her clothes, took the last bit of money we had that was supposed to go towards groceries, and took off. I've haven't seen or heard from her since."
"So then you and your sister….Caitlyn, you what," Ryan asked, "you relocated here to live with an aunt or cousin or something?"
"That would have been nice," Marissa laughed ruefully, turning around to look Ryan in the eye, "but, no, Seattle just happened to be where the first bus leaving Newport was going. We couldn't stay there. It was just….too hard. So I packed us up, only taking what we needed, and we moved. After a few months of staying in a shelter, I got a couple of jobs, sent Caitlyn back to school, and found us a cheap apartment. Eventually, I found a pro-bono lawyer and he helped me become Caitlyn's legal guardian. Eleven years later, here I am. I saved enough money to help my little sister through college and now she's on her way to becoming a vet, I have a nice apartment, a few friends, and I'm happy. But, most importantly, I did it on my own."
"And that's why you said it feels like you've been a Mom for years," Ryan realized. "You've been taking care of your little sister since you were sixteen years old.
"It's also why I haven't had sex in eleven years," Marissa confessed, a deep blush covering her cheeks as she diverted her eyes away from Ryan's. "Don't deny it; I know you've been wondering about that since we got off the plane."
"Perhaps fleetingly," he conceded, winking at her slyly.
Feeling the need to explain, she continued. "It was just more important making sure I paid the bills and gave Caitlyn at least a semblance of a normal life. All my free time, I spent it with her, going to her basketball games, taking her to her riding lessons, helping her get ready for school dances. A personal life just wasn't….possible."
"Yeah, but Caitlyn graduated from high school years ago, right," Ryan argued. "Surely you've had time to go on dates since then."
"A few," she disclosed, "but it's hard to get back into that world when you've been out of it for so long. Plus, I still work a lot, I'm independent, and I'm stubborn. I've never needed a man in my life, and I'm not about to start needing one now. Don't get me wrong," she stopped him from interrupting, "if I met a man that I WANTED in my life, that would be a different story, but being single doesn't define who I am. There are more important things in my life than dating."
"I guess that makes sense," he replied, grinning at her, "and hell, who am I to argue with that logic. You're talking to a guy who's been married since he was sixteen and regretted the decision every day since. It's probably a smart idea to not rush into a relationship."
"Can I ask you something?"
"Marissa, I've been prying into your life for the past ten minutes, I think you're due a question or two."
"Okay then," she began, looking at him seriously. "Why did you get married then? I mean, it's obvious that you really didn't want to."
"We thought she was pregnant….she said she was," he started only to sigh and scrub his face in frustration, "but, at this point, I wonder if maybe she made the whole thing up to trap me. I know that sounds terrible, to think that of your wife," he explained hastily, not wanting her to think less of him, "but, looking back, it's the only thing that makes sense to me sometimes. She knew she was in love with me, I knew she was in love with me, but we also both knew that I was no where near being in love with her."
"But you did the right thing anyway," Marisa argued with him. "That has to say something, that you at least cared."
"I did….I do," he acknowledged, "just….not enough." Groaning, he stood up and took the picture Marissa was still holding out of her hand before walking back to her and offering to help her up. "Come on," he cajoled, "we shouldn't be talking about such heavy stuff. This morning, we had a life and death experience and came out on the winning side. We shouldn't be moping about, lamenting over what was and what we can't do anything about now; we should be having fun…..and checking on breakfast so we don't burn it."
"But we still have one more serious thing to talk about," Marissa argued as Ryan pulled her to her feet and they walked towards the kitchen together.
"That's right," he concurred as he dished out the eggs and sausage onto two plates while Marissa went to open the oven to check on her cinnamon rolls. "You still need to explain that little, tiny, insignificant, very funny detail about not having any underwear on during the flight." Jumping at the sound of the oven door falling open loudly, Ryan turned to see a horrified Marissa hiding behind her pot holder covered hands. Laughing, he taunted her, "you really didn't think I would forget about that, did you?"
"You're an ass," Marissa playfully yelled, unable to keep the smile off of her blushed faced. "And yes, I was hoping you'd forget that confession I offered up under duress.
"But it was the juiciest one of the whole conversation," he reasoned, moving to take the cinnamon rolls out for her as she seemed incapable of moving, "well…..maybe except for the sex fantasy you shared with me. That was definitely juicy….and really hot."
"You're married," Marissa reminded him.
"But I'm not dead," he returned to her slyly, motioning for her to take a seat on one of the barstools while he put the icing on the rolls.
"If I tell you why I didn't have any underwear on, will you promise me something?"
Looking at her curiously, he responded, "how can I agree to that if I don't know what I'm promising to." Seeing her glare, he held up his hands in accordance. "Fine, you win; I promise to do….whatever you want me to."
"Okay, so I'm a really organized person when it comes to things like my apartment or my checkbook. Everything has a place in here where it belongs and I never bounce a check, but I'm not so good about packing." Laughing, she continued. "I hate it, and I'm terrible at it. I either take too much and always the wrong thing….or not enough in this case. Last night, when I woke up from my nap, I showered and then went to get dressed when I noticed I had no clean underwear left." Looking over at her, Ryan could see that she was still red in the face from embarrassment. "It was late, there were no stores open close to my sister's apartment, and I was running behind, so I just….went without. It was the most horrifying experience in my life, and from now on when I travel I'm making sure I have enough underwear to last me at least a month."
Pouting, he ribbed her, "now that's no fun," only to elicit another glare. "What," he asked her pretending to be innocent.
"That is what you have to promise me, that we, you and me, will only be friends. You're married, Ryan, and there's no way I could ever be with a man who cheated on his wife."
"Fine," he conceded, "but we'll be friends who flirt."
"Ryan," she complained, frustrated by his tone and words.
"Oh, come on, Marissa," he fought back. "We're just having fun, innocent, no one gets hurt fun."
"Fine," she relented, "we can be friends who TEASE each other, good naturedly, like friends do….about friendly things, not about friends with benefits things, but friendly things, like me not knowing how to cook or you….I don't know, snoring in your sleep."
"Could you have perhaps fit the word friend in that little speech one more time," he joked, making her roll her eyes. Handing her a plate of food, he settled down in the stool beside her, both of them silent as they thought about what they had just agreed to, the idea that they would only be friends. "You know," he admitted, breaking the quiet after a moment, "just to let you know, I'd never be able to cheat on my wife. No matter what, I do love her…..as a friend and, perhaps more importantly, I respect her….and I respect women. If I fell in love with another person, I'd never be able to, I don't know, cheapen that with an affair."
Smiling at him brightly, Marissa leaned in and gave him a harmless hug. "Good to know."
The rest of their breakfast passed by uneventfully. He told her about his job, inviting her to the game that night with him as his guest, while she told him more about her sister and their relationship, sharing amusing stories about the innocent trouble they would get into when they still lived together. Soon, they found all the food to be gone, and Ryan went to take a shower while Marissa cleaned up the kitchen, agreeing to spend the afternoon together while she showed him the attractions and points of interest only a local would know. It was the perfect start to a beautiful friendship.
Ryan Atwood was exhausted. The game had gone into overtime, so he never got a chance to take a power nap before his flight. He had barely had time to take Marissa back to her apartment, exchange numbers and email information with her, and grab his bags; in fact, he had to run through the airport terminal to catch his flight. Then, of course, just as he had been the previous night, he couldn't sleep on the plane. He had been prepared to battle his inner demons, his fear of falling from the sky rearing its ugly head, especially after his near accident, but his phobia never surfaced. Instead, he had spent the whole flight going over the past twenty-four hours, savoring every second of his time with Marissa, wishing he could see her again soon, and reminding himself that she was only and would always remain just his friend. Unlocking his front door, he pushed his way into his house careful not to make a noise less he should wake up his wife. That was one thing he did not want to deal with that night, but the lights were off so he assumed she was fast asleep.
"Perfect timing," a faceless voice he recognized as Theresa's called out from the dark foyer, startling Ryan and causing him to drop his bags.
"Jesus Christ, Theresa," he yelled, not only annoyed that she was still awake but that she had interrupted his thoughts, leaving him, suddenly, alert and fully conscious, not even close to being tired enough to fall asleep.
Tone piqued, she snapped back, "you know I don't like it when you say that!"
"What the hell are you doing sitting here in the dark," he inquired, ignoring her comment about his choice of expletives. "Are you trying to kill me?!"
"I was trying to be romantic, you know, set the mood," she explained, standing up and moving towards him. As soon as he felt her hands on his chest, he jumped back moving away from her clutches.
"Not now, Theresa," Ryan said forcefully, "I'm exhausted.
"Oh come on, honey, please," she cajoled, missing him wince when she used the endearment. "It's the perfect time for me right now. I'm ovulating and I just checked my temperature and it's the perfect time to make a baby."
"I haven't slept in over 36 hours. I'm tired, grumpy, and, frankly, not in the mood. Plus," he added for extra emphasis, "I have to go into the city tomorrow to meet with my boss and get my next assignment."
"But…..we only have a small window of opportunity," Theresa complained, her voice soft with pain and disappointment. "It won't take long, I promise."
"Wow, way to boost my ego and put me in the mood!"
"Ryan, I'm sorry! You know that's not what I meant," she argued with him, chasing after his fleeing figure as he moved towards his office. "It's just….it's been a while, and you're never here….."
"I'm not here because I'm working," he pointed out, none to gently.
"I know that, and I would never ask you to change; it's who you are, but," she stopped abruptly, forcing back her tears.
Sighing loudly, he turned to face her. "But what?"
Quietly, she responded. "It's just….sometimes it feels as if you don't want to try for a baby. You do want children, don't you?"
"Yes," he replied honestly, thankful that she couldn't see his face or the far away look in his eyes. "If anything has become abundantly clear this weekend, that has. I want kids." Before she could ask what he meant by that, he cut her off once again. "Maybe next month."
"Oh….okay. Are you coming to bed?"
"In a little while," Ryan said nonchalantly, walking into his office. "I'm going to send in my story from tonight, check my email, you know…."
"Yeah," Theresa agreed solemnly, "I do know. Goodnight Ryan. I love you."
Absently, he returned her goodnight, leaving out three very important words. As his wife walked up the stairs which led to the second floor of their house, a second floor with four bedrooms, only one of which was occupied while the other stood empty, waiting for the children she wanted to have, she cried to herself, only too familiar with what Ryan's previously open ended sentence meant. It meant he would once again fall asleep at his desk and wake up only after a few hours and disappear from the house to go into the city without even a word to her, get his new assignment, and come back home to pack up and leave again. Sometimes he left so quickly, she didn't even get to say goodbye to him. That was why she wanted a baby so badly. A baby would be a part of the husband she loved so much, but it would also love her back, be there, always by her side, for her to love and cherish whenever and as often as she wanted. Crawling into the large, cold bed she was supposed to share with Ryan, she eventually fell asleep while her husband sat wide awake at his computer, setting a chain of events in motion that would forever change not only their lives but many others as well. In the dark, the glowing computer screen the only illumination in the room, Ryan sat at his desk, surrounded with his cherished sports memorabilia, going through the archives of the Orange County Register, reading everything and anything connected to one Marissa Cooper.